


Peep

by cyprith



Series: Modern Magic AU [7]
Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyprith/pseuds/cyprith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Bring Your Family to Work Day, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peep

**Author's Note:**

> darkangelsgirl91 prompted: abandoned raven hatchlings

Diaval returned to work within the week. Other than the dark rings beneath his eyes, he looked much himself again. Combat boots made a reappearance, paired with Versace and a cocky grin. His hair he left half-shaved, though the color he rubbed into his rune-marks changed by the day.

“ _Gold_ morning,” he’d announce, swanning into the office with coffee or a treat. “I’m a right match your lovely eyes, today.”

Or else, “How does a motorcycle strike you? Just this shade of green. I’d look quite dashing, I think.”

Deflections, Maleficent knew, a smoke screen of quips and charm. In their quiet moments—those places between difficult clients and smothered fires—she often felt his eyes on her, gauging, watching when he thought she wouldn’t see. They didn’t speak of what happened. They rarely spoke of any personal thing. Whatever he was thinking, Diaval kept it to himself.

And Maleficent wanted… she wanted a word, a spell, a task to set things right again. She wanted to find his cracks, to smooth the jagged edges of past breaks. She wanted to know _why_ and _how_ and so many other useless little things. She wanted to _help_.

But Diaval could fight his own battles, so Maleficent kept a careful distance.

He’d called her, she reminded herself. If he needed her, surely he would call again. 

And so the weeks creep onward, much the way they ever had.

Until, one day, Maleficent heard… a _screech_.

—

Walking into the outer office, she found a plastic container of bait worms and a nest occupying the majority of Diaval’s desk. A disgruntled raven peered out at her over the snarl of branches, a streak of blue along its head feathers, and three little monstrosities squawking at its feet.

It took Maleficent a great deal of self-control to keep a straight face. “Bring your children to work day already?” she asked.

For being mostly beak, Diaval managed a remarkable glare. Hopping up onto the edge of his nest, he jumped into the air a raven and landed on his feet a man.   

“Listen to their lovely wee peeps,” he said. “Mother dead, father run off—what was I supposed to do?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Maleficent did her very best not to laugh. Hair wild, sleeves rolled to his elbows and his shirt so badly wrinkled, Diaval looked like nothing so much as a harried single father.

Behind him, the hideous little creatures croaked and screeched, staggering blind over the protesting bodies of their siblings.

 _Lovely wee peeps_ , indeed.

“So you brought them to work?”

Diaval huffed and turned, tending in some way to his bucket of bait worms. “This small, they have to eat every half hour. And they don’t exactly list raven-sitters in the yellow pages.”

“Oh?” she asked, teasing. But Diaval glanced at her over his shoulder—quick and shy, the dark edge of wanting in his eyes—and the words evaporated on her tongue. 

“I couldn’t leave ‘em,” he murmured, quiet as falling leaves. “Not when I could—could _help_ , you know?”

Abruptly, Maleficent understood. She’d seen a bit of the hurt Diaval carried, the lacework edges of old scars, a litany of perceived failures. _Useless_ , he’d said, rambling between the alley and his apartment. _A fucking disappointment._

But whatever his history, here, now, three little lives depended on him.

If it made him feel useful—if it made him _okay_ —he could raise elephants in the office for all she cared.

“You make a fine father,” she told him, returning to her desk. “Carry on, then.”


End file.
